


Come In, Come Out Tonight

by OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed



Series: Thinking about reunions [1]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: I thought I'd tag it I'm being a little out of character today, Liam's thinking about reunions, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed/pseuds/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed
Summary: Sometimes Liam leaves a little window open.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Thinking about reunions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985680
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Come In, Come Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, a little word vomit? I'm pretending it's true to Liam's character or something along these lines

In his dreams Noel comes to his house. Rings the bell, waits to be let in, maybe won’t be let in and climbs through the window, a desperate, unwanted guest. He stands somewhere in one of Liam’s many corridors and looks at the photographs of Liam’s sons and his daughter and finds their father laughing at him from each pair of eyes. He looks around, listens for footsteps in the quiet air or maybe the creak of a door that tells him his little brother comes running to him again, like always, like many, many years ago. He starts wandering around and opens his eyes a little wider to see Liam’s home and his things and Liam when he finds him standing in the kitchen, drinking his tea like Noel means less to him than a half empty cup of Yorkshire brew.  
  
Noel doesn’t knock, or maybe he does, two knuckles against the door frame, because the door is open. Liam’s doors are always open. He hovers there, feet still in the corridor, but eyes in the kitchen, on Liam and his face and his big hands holding the cup. He doesn’t speak, he waits for Liam to ask him in or ask what he’s doing here or ask him to kiss him. Liam doesn’t speak, either. But he looks back, lazily finds his older brother’s eyes and sinks his own into the blue there. Slowly, he’s in no haste. Maybe Noel’s in a haste, maybe he’s desperate and leans forward and tries to catch more of Liam and his thoughts behind his eyes and his Noel-feelings that Noel remembers are wrapped around his veins, pulsing with every beat Liam's heart sends through the little garden of blood inside his body.  
  
Maybe he needs to take a step inside the kitchen and then two steps back again or better has to stay frozen in place when Liam tells him to stop. Not with words, but with his eyes or maybe his cup of Yorkshire, raised just a little, his knuckles staring at Noel and halting him. Noel listens to Liam in his kitchen, or just outside his kitchen, on the tile that he stopped walking on. He listens and he looks and he wants. Wants Liam and to kiss him and to touch him and to get on his knees or just to hug him and feel his little brother’s heartbeat against his own slower one. Even when he’s fucking nervous out of his mind Noel’s heart is slower than Liam’s, he’s a little colder. At least on the outside, Liam knows he’s burning up in his core, but he thinks Noel’s heart is not his core. He doesn’t know what Noel’s core is, maybe it’s his bile, that would fit him. Every time Liam gets him to melt a little and lose his hard shell, there’s the bitter taste of bile underneath, whether he’s screaming or sighing, there’s always that little bit of bitterness Noel can’t lose.  
  
He hasn’t lost it staring at Liam and his Yorkshire either, Liam can see it underneath his skin. But it doesn’t reach inside Liam’s mouth anymore, he doesn’t taste it over his tea when he takes another sip, carefully watching Noel. Maybe Noel’s done being too bitter, maybe he’s used it all up on his wife, Liam hopes not on his kids. Noel wrinkles his nose a little, a hint of impatience, and Liam takes another sip of his tea. Then puts his cup down and Noel can come in further, and he’s still not speaking, but his mouth opens and it opens more against Liam’s when he steps in Liam’s arms and kisses him, lets himself be kissed. He’s warm against Liam and he puts his hands on Liam’s waist to pull him in closer and Liam gives and lets himself be pulled and maybe also held. He likes being held by Noel. He wants Noel to hold him. And Noel holds him and he doesn’t have edges that dig into Liam or he does have some because they’re familiar and let Liam know where to hold on to, but they don’t graze his skin anymore, or just so much that the sting doesn’t hurt too bad, just gets Liam hard. Noel’s hard against him but Liam doesn’t touch him. His leg touches him where Noel presses himself against Liam.  
  
He thinks Noel might start grinding against him soon, but Noel doesn’t. He’s just there and then he stops kissing Liam and says, “Liam.” Just his name and his eyes say it again, they beg Liam, wide and desperate and Liam could think about what they’re begging him for, but his thoughts don’t want to go past Noel’s _Liam_. And they don’t have to because Noel says that he needs him and maybe also that he misses him, maybe that he loves him, Liam isn’t sure if he can hear that. It doesn’t matter because Noel’s face is there, still looking at him and then Liam feels love. He always feels it, it’s always there, making his ribs hurt, climbing up his throat to paint his lips red, but it usually isn’t this raw and bright. Only when he sits on his chair and thinks of Noel in his kitchen. It aches, of course, like everything about Noel has at least a little pain to it, but it’s also so warm and overwhelming and Liam can’t leave the window open for Noel too often or he’d long have overdosed on his little drug that always leaves fulfilment to the next time.  
  
But in his kitchen Noel feels it, too, and he shines with it and lights Liam up and it feels like 1994 but better. Safer. Liam likes safety now. Noel’s always liked safety but the screwed kind, Liam doesn’t know if he really thought he was safe or if that was another insane little game he was playing. He doesn’t think about it in his kitchen with Noel in his arms. Or him in Noel’s arms. They’re in each other’s arms and it’s safe now. And Liam can count all of Noel’s new grey hairs and a few of his wrinkles he didn’t catch on the telly and Noel searches his face, his body, too, and his eyes tell Liam that he’s pretty. Because maybe that’s the thing that never changes, Liam wants to be pretty – for Noel – and Noel thinks that he’s pretty. Even old and with too many wrinkles and a hard face, not just a hard jawline.  
  
Liam isn’t sure what he thinks Noel is, he hasn’t learned an adjective in school that says what his heart beats loudly through his body and what every nerve cell screams at his brain when he looks at Noel, but he remembers how Noel always got flustered when Liam told him he was pretty. He doesn’t tell him now. He wants to after Noel’s kissed him again and he might do it, but probably not. And that’s okay because Noel smiles a little and he knows what Liam’s thinking and that’s good. It’s just good, them together in Liam’s kitchen, and it stays good when Liam takes Noel up to his bedroom and lets himself be laid out on his own bed by his brother who climbed into Liam’s house through the little window in the storeroom next to Liam’s bedroom.  
  
It won’t be like that when Liam meets Noel again. Liam doesn’t know what it’ll be like. It’ll be like something, like them. Maybe he’ll headbutt Noel. Probably not, but maybe he’ll get in a swat at Noel’s arm. Maybe he’ll break down crying. Also probably not, but maybe he’ll find space to let one or two tears roll into Noel’s neckline. He doesn’t know. Maybe Noel knows but he doesn’t know Liam as well anymore, so maybe no one knows. That’s a lot of not knowing and Liam’s head is spinning at this point and he needs to get out of his chair and hold his head out of the little window he’d opened.  
  
He leaves it open when he goes downstairs to make himself a cup of tea.


End file.
